The Gem
by Washingtonmyhome
Summary: Based on the scene from "The Bash", in which John is admiring a gem in the mirror. Roy sees John preening himself in the mirror.  From Roy's POV, in the form of an entry from Roy's journal, which Roy left out on the locker room bench, and John reads.


Well, there he was this morning, admiring a _Gem_ in the mirror. The gem, of course, was Mr. John Roderick Gage himself, firefighter/paramedic for the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Ever since we saved Eric Thompson, the _most famous_ Hollywood actor, from Charlene the black bear, Junior has been hoping to be discovered by Hollywood.

It started out like any number of calls. We'd been coming back from a call to rescue some kid's head from a fence, and the rest of his body, of course. How on earth this kid's head had gotten stuck in a fence I don't know. After all, if he got it in there, shouldn't he have been able to get right it right out again? Johnny, of course, has a theory, that their heads swell up somehow. Anyway, before we could make it back to Station 51, we got another call.

"Squad 51, L.A." That disembodied voice of Sam Lanier, one of the dispatchers. "Squad 51."

"Man trapped by a bear at Ultraviolet Ray Studio, Lot C. One-seven-seven-eight Malignant Melanoma Parkway. Cross Streets Lopez Lane and Marco Avenue. Time out 12:30.

"Squad 51 KMG 365."

Oh, swell. Man trapped by a bear. At a movie studio. Just what a guy needs to make his day. Just another day at the office.

The bear hated Eric Thompson, at least that's what Eric Thompson told me. _Wonderful._ Who wants to hear that a black bear named Charlene hates you? Consider the size of the bear. Think about the size of Eric Thompson, John Gage, and Roy Desoto combined. The bear weighs at least 500 pounds. Eric probably weighs about 200, John maybe 160, if that, and Roy (that's me) weighs about 180. Do the math. This was another one of those moments when I questioned my sanity about why I joined the fire department. Especially the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Roy Desoto, what _weren't _you thinking?

Eric Thompson was trapped on the stairs in the studio. Everyone else had sensibly cleared out, except for Johnny and I, and we were trying to stay clear of Charlene. Eric had a huge gash on his right leg where the bear had bitten him. At least, Charlene had her rabies shots. That was, of course, a load off our minds.

But, we still had to get out before Charlene could find Eric and take another bite out of him. Or, before Charlene could have Johnny and me for dinner. Sounds good, doesn't it? Johnny jambalaya and roast Roy. I'm sure she was already getting out the pots and pans and preparing for a gourmet dinner of paramedics, with actor for dessert. I don't want to be on that menu.

So, every exit, Charlene seemed to find us. Eric's big laceration made it more difficult for him to remove himself from the studio. But, after several anxious minutes, we managed to get out of the studio. Though not without my having a face to face encounter with Charlene.

We did get out safely, got Eric's gash bandaged up, and him off to Rampart. Dr. Brackett had us stay for a few minutes because Eric Thompson wanted to talk to us. As a way of thanking us for our help, invited Junior and I to what he termed a 'bash'. What is a 'bash', for God's sakes? I thought a bash was what you do to Chester B. Kelly after he's played one too many of his stupid practical jokes on you.

So, now I'm back to our gem. Johnny is certainly a good looking guy. But, this is ridiculous. How silly can Junior get? Meet one Hollywood star and suddenly John has stars in his eyes. He was standing in front of the locker room mirror preening himself. First, he was tucking in his shirt, and then tilting his head, obviously looking for his 'good' side. The gem certainly didn't need any more polishing. If anything, Mr. Gem needed to be taken down a little bit. So, I guess I was elected, since I was the only person to see Johnny in his starry eyed silliness. Besides, I'm certainly no slouch myself in the looks department, and a lot less ego driven. Now, it's time to get Mr. Gem back down to earth where he belongs.

So, I let Mr. Gem polish himself a little more. Then I made my move.

"Hold it right there. I've got the perfect part for you. Sort of a comic relief." John, of course, noticed my inane remark and my smile.

"Very funny. You're a real laugh a minute, you are."

"I'm not being funny. Stranger things have happened."

Of course, stranger things have happened. Aliens invading the earth (story at eleven). Chet Kelly swearing off bad jokes. Adolf Hitler and Elvis getting married in Las Vegas (story at eleven). Chocolate Easter bunnies dressed in firefighters' turnout coats marching down Rodeo Drive. John Gage getting discovered by Hollywood. Need I say more?

"It never hurts to be prepared. After all, you never know."

"I know." I went over to the bathroom counter and leaned against it.

"And I want you to know that if lightning strikes (Yeah, right!), I'm always going to be the same down to earth, likeable guy I've always been. You can have an autograph any time."

The bottom line is: we are not going to Hollywood. It's a fun dream, but not happening. That does not hurt my feelings in the least, and I think the Gem feels the same, even though he claims to have those kinds of aspirations. But he also gets terrible stage fright.

The one time we went on a TV talk show to discuss our jobs with the fire department, he got that deer in the headlights look, and I ended up doing most of the talking. Yes, Johnny did talk some, but I ended up having to bail him out. What gives? He can rush into a burning chemical plant without a qualm. Defibrillating a heart attack patient—well, that's all in a day's work. Rescuing a child with his head stuck in a fence, no problem. Helping in emergency surgery to remove an unexploded grenade stuck in a man's body. Piece of cake. Well, maybe not so much on the surgery to remove the grenade.

As for public speaking and Junior, forget it. He'd rather go fight a fire naked than make a speech. So, how can he even think he might be discovered by some big name Hollywood producer? George Lucas, you listening?


End file.
